Revival
by roseanonyme
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts without Ron and Harry, as a member of the temporary eighth year, instituted by Headmistress McGonagall for students who found their lives interuppted by the War. She can't stand the too-familiar wizard who renders her flushed and speechless, or their shared responsibilities. Unlikely friends and the power of change colour her final year at the castle.


P

She watched them, again. Mostly ignoring the reserved chatter, but occasionally providing inconsequential opinions. It had been like this for five years and she honestly didn't expect another. It was her sixth year now, not that her friends had finally noticed how intently she observed. Some ethereal combination of being Daphne's kid sister and inherently subdued meant that no one paid much mind to the slight girl. The last time she was the centre of attention was when she took Pansy's supposedly fringe-specific shears to her previously long, mousy hair and emerged from the second-floor girls lavatory with some sort of unintentionally asymmetrical pixie cut. But she liked flying under the radar. It didn't bother her much that they knew so little about her, the older kids she trailed around Hogwarts since her first year and their third. Aside from her sister, she suspected her only true friend in the group was Blaise. Impervious to his advances, she ended up as a confidante, not a conquest. He knew how she felt about his best friend, but Astoria knew every hope and fear that they had, spoken or otherwise.

She shifted her eyes along their faces, scarred and hardened from the past year. Every student in the Great Hall that day had done more living by then than their age entitled them to. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, under Headmistress McGonagall, had invited those who should have matriculated during the year of the Fall to return. Those who were subject to the tutelage of the Carrows or simply failed to return to the castle a year ago were given another year of youth, of closure. Not everyone came, though. Gregory had been so devastated by the loss of his best friend and constant companion that he didn't even consider spending another night in the Slytherin dorms. From what the group could gather, he spent his days on a dairy farm somewhere in rural Wales. Potter and his ginger sidekick dove headfirst into Auror training, much to Draco's delight. The Longbottom boy was around, but apprenticing under Professor Sprout. Supposedly he had been handpicked to replace her after she retired next year. Looney Lovegood was editing that rubbish periodical that her father started, after it picked up readership with the endorsement of noted war hero and her fiancé, Ronald Weasley. The Ravenclaws came back in hordes, but everyone more or less figured that. Most surprisingly, the furthest end of the Hufflepuff table was almost as empty as the Slytherin one. The only eighth year students in green were their pathetic group. She thought back to the summer, when they unexpectedly received their letters. The barmy old Hogwarts owls had a hell of a time tracking them down on Draco's yacht in the French Riviera; where he, Blaise, Astoria, Daphne, Theodore, and Pansy were enjoying some down-time for, arguably, the first time in their lives. She wasn't quite sure anyone appreciated what a mystery Draco was, aside from her. By the time the Malfoy family had been fully pardoned by the ministry and he was finally free from Lucius' influence, the young heir was able to openly experiment with some traditionally muggle indulgences. He was already at the helm of Malfoy Industries, managing an impressive investment portfolio and keeping a variety of charities, magical and otherwise, well-fed. However, that didn't stop him from spending a fair amount of time and money on enjoying himself- parties, supercars, and lavish vacations. Pansy had practically begged him to take her gambling in Monte Carlo that evening. Instead, the Slytherin Six talked about their plans as the sun set along the horizon, until Theo posited that they couldn't return to the castle without placating their guilty consciences with each other's company.

Looking at them now, and noticing how their peers regarded them with hesitance and pity, she knew that they made the right choice. Daph always looked like she belonged on a boardwalk in muggle California; with her perfectly long and bronze legs, sunny blonde hair, and effervescent laugh. Her sister had been with Theodore since their third year. His intelligence frightened Astoria, but perhaps not so much so as the lengths to which he went to conceal it. Nott was more than nice enough, but he always seemed to be hiding something more than his eyes, which were frequently concealed behind the mop he called hair. His smile was friendly though, absolving her unease, slightly crooked and thoroughly endearing. Next to the pair were Draco and Pansy. She had to contain a forlorn sigh, more embarrassing than not. Pansy had draped herself rather artfully atop Draco, the Head Boy, who seemed much less interested in her than maintaining his signature look of careful distance. The Malfoy heir had fascinated Astoria since she was a child. With his borderline translucent skin, grey eyes, and hair like sun on fresh snow, every inch of the man oozed cold and frigid. In direct contrast, though, she knew he was only such on the outside. But he would never pay attention to her like she did him. Needless to say, the feelings which the youngest Greengrass had been harbouring since she was introduced to him at a society function nearly a decade ago were unrequited. Combining this with Pansy's vain, manipulative nature left Astoria with an irrational disdain for the other witch and a keen feeling of embarrassment.

"Tori, talk to me. I can practically see the wheels turning in that pretty little head of yours." Blaise half whispered, half cooed in her ear.

Hermione sighed as she entered the Great Hall, flanked by Ginny and Neville. Hogwarts had been rebuilt to unmarked former splendor; and while that was entirely successful, every witch and wizard who had called the castle home had wounds of their own, seen and unseen. Today was so different from all of the other First-of-Septembers she had spent at the Gryffindor table, because of the missing faces. Not only was enrollment down, but the Final Battle had claimed enough lives that it was visible in the empty spaces. The bittersweet feeling that clung to the air was universal and disconcerting. Voldemort was gone, and the wizarding world was finally safe from his tyranny. But that didn't mean that their generation would ever be quite the same. Every face in the Great Hall looked older and more disenchanted than it should. Despite this, two missing faces made this experience that much more unsettling for the brightest witch of her age. Harry and Ron were off somewhere that the Ministry wouldn't allow them to disclose to friends or family, almost halfway through their expedited Auror training. Hermione wasn't sure if it felt so different because the Golden Trio was incomplete or because of the horrors that had taken place here.

"Mione, you're moping. The Head Girl has to set an example, you know." Ginny chided her, winking. Neville had walked up to the dais to sit with the professors, occasionally throwing smiles their way. The sorting hat began its task, much more mellow and less excitable than years previous. Every table cheered for their new fellows, with notably less sound coming from the Slytherin table. Hermione glanced over at the humbled tormentors of her childhood, surprised by the faces she saw. She had anticipated that Malfoy would be her counterpart, but couldn't deny the apprehension she felt. How on Merlin's good Earth could the ever work together? Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement. Professor McGonagall stood, preparing for her first commencement speech. A sobering silence fell over the Great Hall.

"As I look out upon your faces tonight, I see the future. I see new opportunities, and the beginning of lifelong adventures and friendships. I see late nights studying and late nights spent laughing with your roommates. I see the fulfillment of dreams, the achievement of goals, and the safety of a world without prejudice. I see the pride of Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin, and Godric Gryffindor. I see troublemakers and peacekeepers, inventors, creators, leaders and advocates. I see the battle for the House Cup, I see the tenacity of desire for dominance on the quidditch pitch. There are new faces, blank canvases upon which the hallowed halls of this castle will leave permanent impressions- and there are old faces. Those of you who have come to Hogwarts again to right wrongs and better yourselves, and honor those who came and went before you. As I look out upon your faces tonight, I see the past. I see the ghosts behind your eyes, the pain and loss you have all seen. I see the great witches and wizards who have left us- Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Lavender Brown, Colin Creevy, Fred Weasley, Dobby the Elf…" The woman continued her memorial, listing name after name. Quiet sobs and silent tears were produced by the crowd, some of the older students holding each other as if to never let go.

"Every face I see here tonight belongs to individuals who are courageous, and honourable- a fitting testament to those who sacrificed so that you may all be free to be, love, and practice what you wish. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry produces survivors, heroes and legends. On that note, it is my honour to introduce to you all this year's Head Girl, Hermione Granger, and Head Boy, Draco Malfoy. Deputy Headmaster Slughorn and I would like to remind you all that their authority here is second only to our own, and that the Forbidden Forest remains just that, Forbidden. Finally, and most importantly- welcome home, everyone."

They were stunned, primarily. No one was quite sure how to react anymore, what with all of the uncertainty the last year had seen. Theodore Nott was the first to stand, applauding respectfully. Slowly, they all joined him in a reverent celebration of what was, and what would be, and the brave woman who held them all together.

Blaise was whispering into Astoria's ear, Theo and Daphne were grinning like fools because of some joke only they were in on, and Pansy…well, Pansy was Pansy.

"Draco, darling. I have a fantastic plan for next weekend. Tuscany is beautiful in September, it could be very romantic. Wine festivals, bed and breakfasts…"

"Pansy, it's not summer anymore. We can't just jet off when you feel like it. I have work to do for the company, I have patrols for Hogwarts, I'm coaching the Slytherin quidditch team. Now just isn't the time. I'm sorry, but I have to meet with McGonagall at half eight." He didn't really care, in all honesty, where Pansy wanted to be and why. She annoyed him more often than he cared to think about, when she started calling herself his girlfriend in sixth year he didn't think it was worth fighting, especially when it made their parents so happy. Just the idea of little pureblooded Parkinson-Malfoy feet padding around their respective mansions was enough to get the older generation smiling even at difficult times, and there was very little he wouldn't do to see his mother smile. She looked downtrodden, but understanding.

"That's fine, I suppose. I will see you in the common room, later?"

Draco nodded, before saying bye to his friends and wandering off towards the Headmistress' office. As he turned his back on them, he felt his shoulders relax from their impossibly straight position, and he swept a bit of the smugness off his face. The last few years of his life had changed him, more than he cared to think and much more than he wanted them to know. He had promised himself the night his father died that he would never become another carbon copy Malfoy man, and this was the day it started.

"I promise I will come visit you in the greenhouses one of these days Neville. I'm sure you've got some interesting things to share about what you two have growing in there. You're sure you don't want to go back to Gryffindor tower with Ginny? You'll always be welcome there." Hermione smiled at her longtime friend.

"I've got an apartment in the Staff Wing, Hermione. But thank you anyway, I'm so excited to show you the mandrakes I have going for the third years, they're really special plants."

Ginny snickered at Neville, and muttered something about thinking special wasn't quite the right word for the screaming terrors. Hermione was comforted by the presence of her friends, but promptly made an exit in favour of her first official Head Girl duties, and sauntered off towards McGonagall's office.

"Malfoy!" She called, spotting the back of his head only a few paces ahead of her in the crowded halls. He turned around and she saw the smile disappear from his face. "Slow the bloody hell down, won't you?"

"Granger, you'd best watch that mouth of yours, wouldn't want anyone thinking that the Gryffindor Princess has even a little bit of an attitude." He smirked at her. "And don't get confused, I will spend as little time around you as possible. Just because we got saddled with this doesn't mean I can suddenly tolerate you and your ass-kissing."

She felt her cheeks burn, grateful that the students had mostly found their ways down the corridors by now. _Is that really what they think of me? That I'm some boring, stuck-up, suck-up princess? I have to have a clever retort for this…Merlin, why can't I string a goddamn sentence together? _

"I…uh…bu-…um…" Hermione stuttered, hoping the words would come out. They never did, of course, making his smirk even more pronounced. Her face grew warmer with embarrassment, focussed mostly upon ignoring Malfoy and putting one lead foot in front of the other.

"After you, Princess." He nearly hissed, the sarcasm more than evident in his words. He held open the door, obviously taking an immense amount of pleasure in how flustered she was.

When mudblood Granger walked past him and into the old woman's den, Draco Malfoy noticed three things about her that he wished he didn't. First, the extra shine in her eyes that could only be caused by unshed tears. Second, how incredible she smelled, something floral and dark and addictive all at once, like the most painfully beautiful rose the world had known, toeing the line between full bloom and decay. Third, and possibly most disturbingly, was that underneath all of her robes and frizz and know-it-all attitude, he could see how she could be considered attractive- by anyone else, of course.


End file.
